


Close to Home

by irisbleufic



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arkham Asylum, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Kissing, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Intersex Character, Lies, M/M, Murder Husbands, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, POV Edward Nygma, POV Hugo Strange, Physical Disability, Season/Series 02, Sharing a Bed, Strength, Trans Character, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “I’m falling for you,” Oswald said. “It’s only been a few weeks, but…what do you think?”“I think,” said Edward, pleased with himself now that he was coherent again, “I lied wisely.”





	1. Risk-Taker

**Author's Note:**

> This takes on four of the Nygmobblepot Week 2018 prompts: fake dating, sharing a bed, hurt/comfort, and cuddles. This story uses the versions of Oswald and Edward from [**_Damocles_**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636930), but it is _not_ related to that universe in any way except being an AU take on it. Here, they get caught shortly after Edward has discovered Oswald in the woods, and they're sent to Arkham together.

Edward’s first mistake had been choosing a stretch of woods that wasn’t _quite_ far enough out of public reach. Killing the hunter had been bad enough as improvisation went, but finding a grievously-injured Penguin and deciding to take him home?

Unsurprisingly, they’d never gotten there. Some woman chasing after her unruly dog had spotted them from a distance and called the cops. Gordon had looked about ready to curl up and die of embarrassment, and Edward would have gladly rolled him into the crowded grave.

They’d both been taken to Arkham without so much as a stop at the precinct. That was probably because Oswald’s infection would have killed him if he’d spent even a few more days with that kind of exposure. He’d been sent straight to the infirmary.

Edward, begrudgingly uniformed and incorrectly medicated, had spent two weeks parrying Hugo Strange’s questions with increasingly abstruse riddles. He’d made a point, at each therapy session’s close, of demanding to see Oswald.

Strange had simply smiled, tight-lipped and inscrutable behind his rose-tinted glasses. “No.”

Just when Edward thought he’d gotten Ms. Peabody to warm up to him enough to sneak him to the infirmary, she’d stopped answering his questions. But not before making a remark that had set Edward’s teeth on edge for deeply personal reasons.

“There’s more physically wrong than we thought,” she’d said. “We need to run some tests.”

At that, Edward had felt an inexplicable stab of panic. Not knowing what else to do, he’d lied.

“You don’t understand,” he’d said. “We’re—look, we’re not _just_ partners in crime.”

Peabody had stared at him for several seconds without blinking. “For how long?” she’d asked.

“A year or so,” Edward had said earnestly. “Look, it’s personal. I don’t expect you to get it.”

“I need a word with Strange,” she’d said, sweeping away from where Edward gripped the bars.

Edward had remained where he was for nearly twenty minutes. Lucky for him, she’d returned.

“Mr. Cobblepot confirms your story,” she’d said. “Your visitation rights will be limited to half an hour per day, and that’s generous. Be sure to thank the Doctor next time you see him.”

“I will,” Edward had reassured her, wondering if he’d heard correctly. Penguin had _confirmed_?

The first time she’d settled him in a chair at Penguin’s bedside had been that afternoon. Penguin had been bitter and cranky, but he’d been easy enough to disarm with a detailed account of how they’d ended up where they were. He’d thanked Edward with a hint of petulance.

“That fib about the relationship,” he’d said later, musing dopily on painkillers. “Very clever.”

“We’re alone here, Mr. Penguin,” Edward had said, thrilled at the praise. “Strength in numbers.”

“What will it take to get you to call me Oswald?” Penguin had asked, snagging Edward’s wrist.

“You starting to call me Ed would be nice,” Edward had shot back. “Instead of _friend_ , all condescending, like you’re still mad. I did my best.”

“You would’ve done better if they hadn’t…” Oswald sobered a bit. “You have medical training.”

They’d shaken on it, a gesture that had resulted in Edward shifting to sit on the edge of the regrettable infirmary mattress when the orderly looked at them funny. He’d leaned in and kissed Oswald’s forehead—and, thankfully, Oswald had remembered to play along.

Edward couldn’t account for the next week of physical contact coming as easily as it had, but they spent most of their time sitting curled into each other and chatting. It felt normal. When Oswald kissed him for the first time, no more than a chaste brush of his lips against Edward’s, the orderly had smiled and averted her eyes. Edward had kissed him back.

Which brought them to where they were now: a Sunday afternoon visit marred by the ominous, throbbing screech of lockdown alarms. The orderly had fled to assist with whatever crisis was in progress.

Oswald had Edward’s head wrapped in his arms, cradled against his chest, to block out the noise.

“It’s stopped,” he said at length, loosening his hold on Edward. “I think my eardrums burst.”

“You’d be in more pain if that were the case,” Edward said, scooting back a respectful amount.

“No need to pretend now, I guess,” said Oswald, sounding subdued, winding his hands in his lap.

“If it makes you feel any better, I'm not pretending,” Edward said, articulating the sentiment as it occurred to him. “You’re the only friend I have.”

“What about that girl you killed?” Oswald asked, bringing it up for the first time since Edward’s perfunctory recounting. “What was she to you?”

“A friend who became more,” Edward sighed, staring out the barred window, “and then nothing.”

“Be sure to warn me if I become nothing,” Oswald chuckled, but his demeanor was sympathetic.

“I’m guessing you’ve been in a…situation or two,” Edward ventured, looking up, “like mine?”

“No,” Oswald said, shaking his head. “Never been in love, never…mistaken something for it.”

“You mentioned your mother,” said Edward, as empathetically as he could, “but that’s different.”

Oswald was looking at him as if he, too, had reached some kind of epiphany. “Huh,” he said.

“What’s the matter?” Edward asked, rushing to the nearby trolley. “Is it your shoulder? Here’s—”

“No, I don’t want any drugs,” Oswald said emphatically, beckoning to Edward. “Come here.”

Edward put the bottle back on the trolley and went to him, climbing onto the mattress as Oswald threw back the covers. Even in the absence of an audience, at the lack of a reason to maintain the performance, Oswald’s kiss didn’t take him by surprise. It lasted a long time.

“You said they told you something else was wrong with me,” Oswald murmured at length. “What?”

“Ms. Peabody said it was physical,” Edward said, nuzzling Oswald’s throat. They were lying side by side, arms thrown across each other, legs tangled. “I assumed she meant your injury.”

“She didn’t,” Oswald replied, pressing closer to Edward, eyes filled with doubt. “It’s genetic.”

“From one mutant to another,” Edward said, aiming for levity, “I’m sorry they’re so insensitive.” 

Oswald, who’d gone in for another kiss, narrowed his eyes. “Ed, if you’re just humoring me—”

“Oh, I’m not,” Edward explained, deciding that a demonstration was best given their position. He scooted the few inches left between them, feeling his pulse quicken as their bodies pressed flush. “Partial Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome affects…crud, there’s no riddle for this.”

“I’ve got a different one,” Oswald said, sounding so relieved that Edward thought he might cry. He pressed closer still, until Edward had no choice but to settle on his back. “Similar effect, though, at least with…”

Edward guided Oswald’s fingers to his waistband, relieved when Oswald took a hint and unfastened it. He unbuttoned the top of his uniform while Oswald did that, nervously shedding it.

Oswald gave up on Edward’s pants to smooth both hands over Edward’s flat, hairless chest, distracted by the scars on Edward’s abdomen when he got there. He caressed them.

“Can I take your…” Edward helped Oswald unbutton his top, which joined Edward’s on the floor. His bandages were clean and well-tended, at least.

“I want to see you,” Oswald blurted, his fingers pressing at Edward’s hip. “Can I see…”

“Take yours off, too?” Edward countered, shimmying out of his trousers and underwear.

“Yes, I…” Oswald struggled with the task, perhaps in discomfort, so Edward assisted him.

They didn’t spend much time staring, not when they could keep kissing. Not when Oswald’s tentative fingers found the soft skin beneath Edward’s knees and nudged his legs apart.

“Intersex conditions, broadly speaking,” Edward said, mind on nervous autopilot. “DSD.”

“I couldn’t give fewer fucks about clinical terms, Ed,” Oswald said, sliding his palm up the inside of Edward’s thigh. “What makes you feel good?”

Edward swallowed, rocking back on his elbows again, brows knit as he guided Oswald’s hand.

“Aside from touching myself, and finger penetration to a limited degree, I don’t know,” he admitted, his breath hitching as Oswald got the gist and enclosed the entirety of Edward’s length in half his fist. “Some fabric textures, I mean…if they rub against me. Your skin might.”

Oswald nodded, uncurling his fingers, rubbing Edward with the heel of his palm. “Does it?”

“Yes,” Edward whispered, feeling his cheeks heat as Oswald leaned in to kiss him. “Very.”

“I don’t want to try anything—well, _complicated_ ,” Oswald murmured, nuzzling Edward’s ear before biting down. “I’d probably hurt you.”

Edward shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated how he was on a hair trigger, always, if the sensation was just right. The grind of Oswald’s palm, and the unhurried way Oswald was nibbling and licking his way from Edward’s earlobe down to his neck, had Edward shaking.

“Are you all right?” Oswald asked, pausing, dropping a kiss against Edward’s collarbone. “Do you need me to do something else?”

“I’d rather wait to come until you’re close, too,” Edward said, resenting how shaky he sounded. “Can I suck you until you’re almost there, and then maybe…” He insinuated several fingers beneath Oswald’s, demonstrating just how far inside himself he could press. “You’re not…longer than this,” he said meaningfully, hoping Oswald would catch on.

Oswald kissed him into their pile of scratchy pillows, his breath hitching. He drew his hand away, shifting so that he could straddle Edward against the terrible, spring-riddled mattress.

“Then maybe I wouldn’t hesitate if we were somewhere better, or if we had a condom,” he panted desperately against the side of Edward’s neck, responding to the way Edward wrapped all four limbs around him by starting to move. “I think that…that I see what you mean about skin.”

Edward rolled them over, skewing the covers every which way. He pinned Oswald with a bruising kiss, suddenly burning with the realization that Oswald could, in fact, get hard.

“When we’re out,” Edward gasped, “I want you to…” He felt Oswald’s cock twitch against his belly, and it was too much for him to bear. “Inside me.”

Oswald whined and drove his blunt nails into Edward’s spine, one heel digging into Edward’s ankle and the other braced against Edward’s calf.

“I had no idea it’d be different,” Oswald said deliriously. “You feel… _Ed_ , it’s like…”

“I’d need a strap-on or similar to return the favor, and it wouldn’t be the same as, _um_ , as how you’d do it to me, but…” Edward gave up on words and, at the urging of Oswald’s fingers against his jaw, kissed Oswald with a groan. “I’m, I’m going to—please, _please_ —”

“That’s goo— _oh_ , that’s good,” Oswald moaned, eyes shut tight, as unaware as Edward was of anything except how amazing it felt to get off.

Edward breathed raggedly into the pillow as his pleasure ebbed, repeating Oswald’s name at varying degrees of articulacy to see what it would do for him. Oswald couldn’t ejaculate, not as such, but they were sticky enough for Edward to conclude he wasn’t the sole contributor.

“God,” Oswald mumbled, laughing weakly against Edward’s collarbone. “That. _Ah_.”

Edward finally lifted his head and grinned down at him, so elated that his face actually hurt.

“Hopefully anyone with half a mind to torment you will think twice,” he offered, hugging Oswald tightly. “Some of the others tried with me.”

“I,” Oswald said, his tone low and vehement, “will _kill_ anyone who lays a hand on you.”

“Once you get a handle on it, directing the flow of lunacy around here is pretty simple,” Edward said, feeling sleepy and content even though Oswald’s bony knee dug into his side almost as badly as the mattress springs. “As long as we’re clear about being a—a _thing_ —I don’t think many of the others would be confident enough to challenge us.”

Oswald blinked up at him, languid and hopeful. “I want us to be a thing,” he confessed quietly.

Bending close, Edward pressed their foreheads together and set his hand over Oswald’s heart.


	2. Matchmaker

Seated before the grainy monitor feed, empty glass teacup in hand, Hugo Strange watched.

Strange watched as the unlikely lovers, to his utter shock, took the bait. He had set off the alarm himself. Ten minutes unsupervised—no, _fewer_ —and his prize subjects had fallen into each other's arms as effortlessly as dreaming. The lack of audio was regrettable. They coupled with less confidence than he would have expected of their twelve-month commitment claim, but the cozy afterglow persisted even after they'd hastily dressed ahead of Nurse Kohler's return.

When the time came for Ms. Peabody to part them and return Edward to his room, Oswald kissed him with a fervor startling in its intensity. Peabody had to touch Edward's arm to disengage them, which resulted in two accusing glares. Kohler kept well out of the way, busy with the matter of preparing Oswald's evening medication.

Strange sent a single text once Peabody had escorted Edward out: _Bring him to me._

Possessed of that diffident, forthright gravitas he seemed to reserve for situations in which he believed he had the upper hand, the patient fixed Strange with a smirk as Peabody led him into the office. He took his place in the chair before Strange's desk, hands poised in his lap.

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said as Strange returned from the windowsill with what tea remained.

“For the visitation rights, I assume,” Strange replied, refilling his cup before turning the teapot's steam-glazed spout on the empty one he'd brought over. “Edward, you're most welcome.”

Edward accepted the cup with an expression that suggested the gesture had taken him off guard.

“There's nothing in this I should be worried about, is there?” he asked, sniffing the sencha warily.

“As sharp as your senses are, I was hoping you might tell me,” said Strange, taking a curt sip.

“It's over-brewed,” Edward pronounced, raising the cup to his lips. “Accident or preference?”

“The former, alas,” Strange conceded, affecting a benign smile. “I grew preoccupied with work.”

Edward's eyes swept across his desk, which was tidy save for the presence of two files. They darted next to the corner where the surveillance monitor sat, puzzled behind thick lenses.

“Your cameras must be malfunctioning,” he said conversationally. “The screen's all static.”

“Routine maintenance outage,” Strange reassured him smoothly. “Besides, this time is for you.”

“No, it isn't,” Edward parried, nudging his cup onto the edge of the desk, rejecting what remained. “My regular weekly session with you is on Thursdays. This is something else.” He tilted his head at the monitor again. “That doesn't have anything to do with the alarm, does it?”

“Hardly,” Strange laughed, relinquishing his cup, too, before clasping both hands on his knee. “Some of your naughty charges started a fire downstairs. Playtime is over for the day.”

“Believe me when I say that I'm _not_ sorry to be missing out,” said Edward, deadpan. “I bet they're trickier for the guards to keep a handle on when I'm not around.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Seriously, though—what's this about?”

Strange unlaced his fingers and made an expansive gesture, hoping to set Edward's suspicion at ease. Disturbed though this young man was, his powers of observation were formidable.

“To check in with you,” he said, “regarding how you feel your partner's faring in our care.”

At the mere mention of his paramour, Edward's eyes narrowed, and his demeanor changed. Feral, flinty, possessive: a man given enough rope to hang himself will invariably do just that.

“Oswald has recovered enough for discharge into the general population,” Edward said, each word faster and fiercer than the last. “I appreciate your circumspection, but I want him back.”

“You have him all to yourself for thirty minutes a day,” Strange challenged. “Surely it's preferable to have your own safe-haven than to...share him with the rest of the rabble.”

“About that,” said Edward, chin lowered in calculation, “there's the question of where to put him. We both know this place is at close to full capacity, and there are new arrivals by the day.”

“It's an issue,” Strange agreed, “but I wouldn't want to release him while he's still weak.”

Edward reached across the desk and tapped the files, one after the other. Oswald's and then his.

“It's not healing him that interests you,” he said. “You're interested in me for a similar reason.”

“On the contrary, it has nothing to do with the class of anomaly you share,” Strange said. “It's that no couple has been held here in living memory. You're an unprecedented test case for joint care.”

“Then don't separate us,” Edward said. “Once he's discharged, let him share my... _space_.”

The word _cell_ had been so near the tip of Edward's tongue that the stale air tasted of it.

“I suppose your conjugal circumstances, taken with lack of historical data, call for ongoing concessions,” Strange mused. “You would be the object of hostility, you understand.”

“If you want something from me, take a moment to consider you're already getting it,” Edward replied. “ _Control_. Today's incident has more than proved what I'm worth to you.”

Strange was in delight at the extent of this patient's gall, but he schooled his features even so.

“It's because you've been useful that I've been inclined to bend rules,” he said. “Anything else?”

“While I'm making demands, you mean?” Edward said, folding his arms across his chest.

“I'd like to think of it as a symbiotic relationship, but sure,” replied Strange. “Within reason.”

“Blood tests,” Edward pressed. “Oswald's nervous about the conditions here. Frankly, so am I.”

“We do our best with limited funding,” Strange sighed, “but fine. Kohler can handle the draws.”

“That's all,” Edward said, relaxing. “I don’t know how long you plan to— _treat_ us, but—”

“The blood test comes at a premium,” said Strange, withdrawing his phone. “You will report on anything of interest, anything troublesome you might learn. We mustn't have a repeat of today.”

 _Come_ , he typed. _Take him. Arrange for labs on both tomorrow during their visit._

 _Been recording like you asked_ , Peabody replied. _You like games, but this is too far_.

Strange ignored her sharp-intentioned admonition. _Bug Ed’s room tomorrow as well._

 _Getting a little familiar?_ Peabody texted back. _Whatever you want, Doctor_.

“You know I would have given you that anyway,” Edward countered. “Why is it a premium?”

“Because I’d expect you to report on Oswald, too, if it came to it,” Strange said with severity.

Edward’s expression flattened, eyes narrowing even further, but he nodded. “Fine by me.”

Strange wanted to clap in delight, but he kept a lid on it. “Splendid. Good day, Edward.”

Peabody’s flawlessly-timed entrance made Edward jump, but he departed without protest.

The next day, Strange watched as Kohler drew blood from the patients, Edward before Oswald. She left them alone to take the sample downstairs to await pick-up. During that time, the lovers did little more than kiss and converse, the substance of which Strange could not hear.

Strange called Peabody and told her to send Kohler to his office. Give them a little more time, let them have the chance to make a slip. Kohler arrived breathless, pink-cheeked from the cold, and asked what he wanted. Strange told her that Oswald was to be discharged as soon as the labs came back—and had she included an STI screen in the paperwork? Kohler nodded.

“I’m glad you let them have this,” she said, indicating the couple on the monitor. “It helps.”

“Ms. Kohler, we are _here_ to help,” said Strange, and sent her away with a curt wave.

Seventy-two hours later, while Strange was watching a tense, restless display of wrist-stroking on Oswald’s part (compelling, to realize he was the more visibly pent-up of the pair), Peabody delivered the blood-test outcome. Clean on all sides. That was miraculous given what Oswald had been through and what Edward had been up to in his recent spare time.

Strange had Peabody bring Edward straight to him once the visit was over. He informed Edward of the results and sent him back to his room.

Oswald was recalcitrant at finding himself dressed and brought to Strange’s office. When informed that he had been deemed well enough for release into the general patient population, he spat venom, insisting he was still in pain. Strange called in Pendleton and Harris for back-up, as Peabody’s expression told him there was no way she’d escort this one.

“Take the patient to his accommodations,” Strange ordered. “Ms. Peabody, you may stay.”

Wordlessly, as the door slammed on Oswald’s shouting, Strange switched his surveillance screen to the correct feed. He took out the device that Peabody had furnished him with, clicking the power button. The speakers she’d set up delivered synced, if static-laced sound to accompany the visual of Edward pottering around his room. He’d dug up a newspaper somewhere and painstakingly torn out some clippings.

The sound of his cell door being unlocked put a stop to all of that. Edward froze, and one of the clippings fell from his grasp. Strange couldn’t see the guards due to the camera being mounted above the door, but he watched as Oswald, stumbling and amazed, was pushed into the room.

“What—” He blinked and found his footing, closing the distance between them. “Edward?”

“Let’s just say that Strange and I had a little chat,” said Edward, catching him. “It went well.”

Strange had been hoping for more of a debrief, something from which he might discern whether they’d lied at the outset. He derived no sense of arousal from watching them stumble to the bed as they kissed. No, they were an intellectual experiment as much as Barbara Kean had been.

Still: waste not, want not. However pornographic the proceedings, Strange would bear them.

“Ed, _help_ me with this,” Oswald laughed in sheer delight. “It’s tangled, hurts, I can’t…”

“I admit that I’m…relieved to see you in a hurry,” Edward admitted, tossing his shirt to the floor.

“How could I not be,” Oswald gasped, flinging his own aside with Edward’s assistance. “Here…”

Unselfish of Oswald, Strange couldn’t help but think, undressing both of them the rest of the way when a degree of strain showed in his every move. Bare except for his bandages, he pinned an equally exposed Edward to the mattress and latched onto him with a muffled groan.

“Anything you want,” Edward said, his voice breaking. “Anything, Oswald. I don’t know if Strange told you, but the labs came back clean.”

Oswald kissed him at that, visibly relaxing as Edward hitched a leg over him. “You’re sure?”

“Very,” Edward said without hesitation, his fingers tangled in Oswald’s hair, “ _very_ sure.”

“My, aren’t they eager,” said Peabody, startling Strange out of his data-collector’s reverie.

“The trick’s understanding why,” Strange murmured vaguely. “Would you please be quiet.”

As far as Strange was concerned, the tell was in what came next. Although he couldn’t see precisely what their careful maneuvering entailed—Oswald’s back was to the camera, and much of Edward’s body was shielded—the helpless tremor they shared in joining told all.

Oswald’s moan was muffled against Edward’s shoulder, tucked into the pillow. “ _Ed_ …”

“Feels…” Edward closed his eyes tighter, kneading at Oswald’s spine. “Oh, you feel good.”

“You had better not be lying,” Oswald panted, already rocking gently into him. “You too.”

“There’s your answer,” Peabody said smugly, patting Strange on the shoulder. “Amateurs.”

“How remarkable that Oswald should have agreed to the deception,” Strange said. “On instinct.”

There was nothing especially elaborate about the rest, except to observe the devil in the details. They whispered to each other as they moved—haltingly, too hushed to discern. Oswald was the more successful of the two in stifling his cries, but Edward was loud enough to announce them to any passers-by. They didn’t separate afterward, clinging and drowsily entangled.

Strange killed the audio and turned his back on the surveillance feed, meeting Peabody’s eyes.

“We have excellent matchmaking potential,” he said. “Let’s release them together when the time comes, see what havoc they wreak. Ms. Kean’s aftermath has been dull, wouldn’t you agree?”


	3. Harbinger

On waking, Oswald couldn’t help but wonder if he’d overdosed and dreamt it, but Edward felt real beneath him—breath even, their bodies sweat-damp beneath the scratchy covers. He cupped Edward’s cheek and kissed him awake, grinning at the startled snort it got him.

“Hello, handsome,” he murmured, lips brushing against Edward’s. “Now, that was a welcome.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Edward croaked, straightening his glasses, which they’d left askew.

Oswald pushed them up into Edward’s hair and traced a meandering line from Edward’s temple down to his jaw. He hadn’t been able to properly appreciate Edward’s looks that night in the woods, although he’d had sufficient wits about him to know he’d seen this man before.

“I thought you were handsome that day in the precinct,” Oswald said. “Irritating, but handsome.”

Edward broke into a delighted grin, turning his head to nuzzle Oswald’s hand. “You’re so striking,” he sighed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Oswald’s palm. “Beautiful, even.”

“For starters, my hair’s a _mess_ ,” said Oswald, self-deprecatingly, “but so is yours.”

“Dinner’s soon, Oswald,” Edward said, self-consciously tugging the covers higher. “They’ll be coming through to escort us down in about—” he glanced up at the ancient clock bolted to the cinderblock “—fifteen minutes. And I can guarantee you we’ll find out who heard us.”

“If Strange has agreed to let us have special treatment,” Oswald said, slipping out from under the covers to dress quickly and fetch Edward’s uniform for him, “then one hopes he will have informed the guards that we’re off limits. I’m not worried about the other inmates.”

Getting Edward dressed was easier said than done, what when he made Oswald stop between buttons to kiss him. Oswald finally swatted his hip and helped him stand up, buttoning his trousers.

“I want to know how you taste,” Edward breathed in Oswald’s ear, stepping back as the cell door opened. “I’m going to keep you up all night.”

Oswald could tell by Pendleton’s disgusted look that he was probably blushing. He took Edward’s arm under the guise of needing help given the lack of a cane and the fact he was still bandaged. Neither Pendleton, nor Harris did much more than stare, although the other inmates that they were shepherding down the hall paused to leer or sniff or otherwise get too close.

“Hostility,” Edward muttered under his breath, grateful when they made it to the mess hall. “More like complete and utter disrespect.”

“You made them feel special,” Oswald said, “and now it’s obvious that I’m _more_ special.”

“You are more special,” Edward said blithely, accepting a tray for each of them as they moved through the line. “I’ve just got to figure out how to get across to them that you’re a friend, too.”

“I’m nobody’s friend but yours, Ed,” Oswald said under his breath, staring in abject horror at the tray. “What is this? It looks worse than what they were bringing me before.”

“Best not to speculate,” Edward said, clearly slowing his gait so Oswald could stay shoulder to shoulder with him while they searched for a table. “There, far side. Back to the bars is best.”

“I guess Strange, Peabody, and the guards are less likely to stab us in the back,” Oswald agreed.

They hadn’t gotten very far with eating when a hulking presence with a nervous, hunched sidekick sidled up behind Edward. The larger one clapped Edward on the shoulder; the other licked his neck.

Edward flinched and closed his eyes, affecting an enthusiastic smile. 

“Helzinger, hi,” he said, shoving the giant’s hand off his shoulder. “Hey, Norton, _buddy_ —that’s enough.”

“You abandoned us,” said Helzinger, sounding oddly disconsolate, but with a hint of malice.

“Mhmmm,” Norton agreed, sniffing Edward’s hair. He turned swiftly toward Oswald, sniffing the air an inch from Oswald’s cheek. “Abandoned,” he echoed, high and sinister. “Fact.”

“What you have to understand,” Edward said, “is that Oswald and I got caught _together_. We were brought in at the _same time_. He’s just been recovering from a gunshot.”

“Shot?” Helzinger echoed. “Was it the cops?” He sat down in the empty seat to Edward’s right.

Oswald considered saying that, no, it was somebody in the employ of that _idiot_ Galavan, but he sensed that Helzinger had associations with the GCPD. He nodded eagerly.

“Oh, yes,” Oswald said readily, clutching his shoulder. He pulled back his uniform far enough to expose his bandages, taken aback when Norton leaned and sniffed those, too. “Jim Gordon.”

“Truth,” pronounced Norton, meeting Helzinger’s gaze with twitchy, watery eyes. “Infirmary.”

It was then that another man shuffled over from an adjacent table, hawk-eyed with agitation.

“We heard you,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger. “We _heard_ you. Ed’s a traitor.”

Helzinger got up and grabbed the interloper before he could lunge at Edward. Beneath the table, Oswald clutched Edward’s trembling, seeking hand in both of his own. 

“Sex ain’t treachery, Rudy,” said Helzinger, clapping the man upside the head. “ _Lucy_.”

Edward turned his head and whispered, “You’ll hear both of them shrieking up the hall.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Oswald whispered back, but he offered Rudy-slash-Lucy an appealing smile. “I promise you that I will take very, very good care of your friend Ed.”

Rudy (or Lucy, or both) relaxed in Helzinger’s grasp, so Helzinger let go. “You better.”

“I know who you are,” said the woman at the far end of the table, turning a page in her book.

“Is that so, Sharon?” Edward asked. “You’ve always been keen. Want to tell everyone?”

Sharon nodded eagerly, fixing Oswald with intense, scattered eyes. “You’re the Penguin.”

“Edward is right,” Oswald allowed, relieved when she beamed and preened. “You’re sharp.”

When a hostile party from outside Edward’s ranks tried to call Edward out during dessert, Helzinger all but snapped the man’s neck. Kohler was in the team sent up from the infirmary to help retrieve the injured man and transport him. The rest of them were sent back to their cells.

“That was…tense,” Oswald sighed as they shuffled out of their standard issue slip-on shoes.

Edward went straight to the bed and sat down, rubbing the side of his neck. “This won’t last.”

“I need to work on finding a weapon,” Oswald said, stripping off his shirt. He took it over to the door and managed to wedge some of the fabric down between the grooves in the bar-frame, an impromptu curtain. “I can’t do much to soundproof us, but at least those nasty guards…”

Edward was already out of half his clothes, flushed and eager. “I can ask around. See where Lucy’s shiv went. You wouldn’t think it, but Lucy’s a force to be reckoned with. Rudy’s soft.”

Oswald stepped between Edward’s spread thighs, unfastening his trousers, letting them drop. When Edward leaned forward to wrap warm arms around Oswald’s waist and lick worshipfully at his breastbone, Oswald sighed and ran his fingers through Edward’s wavy hair.

“I’d prefer one of my own, but transfer of property is better than nothing,” Oswald said.

“What we really need,” said Edward, lapping his way down to Oswald’s belly, “is to bust out.”

“I’m no escape artist, unfortunately,” Oswald gasped, weak in the knees. “That’s your area.”

“The best-laid of my kind, for both mice and men, oft go awry,” Edward said. “What am I?”

“You’ll come up with a plan,” Oswald replied, stroking his cheeks encouragingly. “I know it.”

“The key,” Edward mumbled, nuzzling Oswald’s arousal until he felt faint, “is playing Strange.”

“Think about that later,” Oswald said, squeezing the back of Edward’s neck. “Let me lie down.”

Edward obliged him in that and everything, lavishing attention on Oswald by degrees until he’d sucked in the entirety of him. He came twitching at the back of Edward’s tongue, grateful that there was no reason to fear choking him. Even once Oswald had quieted, he didn’t stop.

“Come here,” Oswald whispered, licking his fingers as Edward settled at his side. He slid his hand between Edward’s legs without hesitation, fondling his cock lightly for a leisurely minute before easing a finger inside him. “You feel good like this, too,” he teased. “Do I?”

“Nobody’s ever touched me but _me_ ,” Edward said, thighs already trembling. “So yes.”

“What about…well,” Oswald said, kissing his cheek in reassurance. “The one who’s nothing.”

“That was awkward,” Edward admitted, his eyes sliding shut as he thrust more insistently against Oswald’s hand. “It went…poorly, when…when I told her that I killed her ex.”

“Not because of this?” Oswald asked, scissoring in a second finger, fucking him harder. “Because if it was, I would’ve killed her myself.”

“Well, she was…confused,” Edward whimpered, his chest heaving. “We stopped because I couldn’t…” He groaned quietly, hips jerking, fingers tight around Oswald’s wrist. “ _Oh_ —!”

Oswald shifted on his knees, ignoring the fierce pain that shot down to his right ankle, entranced.

“I hope this isn’t hasty, but I…” He withdrew his fingers as gingerly as he could, Edward’s exhalations of _Oswald, too much, oh Oswald_ enough of a hint. “Ed. Look at me.”

Edward opened his eyes, pink-cheeked and panting. He let Oswald remove his glasses, faintly smiling when Oswald rocked forward and sprawled on top of him, stretching in relief.

“I’m falling for you,” Oswald said. “It’s only been a few weeks, but…what do you think?”

“I think,” said Edward, pleased with himself now that he was coherent again, “I lied wisely.”

“I don’t take for granted that you’ll feel the same way from the start,” Oswald said, feeling his stomach sink, burying his face against Edward’s shoulder. “If it takes some time, or—or doesn’t happen at all for you, I—I’d understand.” He squeezed Edward. “It’s enough that you want—”

“I’ve loved you a while,” Edward said, as if it was nothing. “Thought maybe it was a crush.”

Oswald lifted his head in disbelief, and then spent the next thirty seconds elatedly kissing him. It would be gauche to look a gift horse in the mouth, much less interrogate him in the afterglow as to how that had come about. Their encounter in the precinct had been providence.

“When I regain control of this city,” Oswald vowed, “I want nothing so much as you at my side.”

“I don’t think I’m fit for a king _or_ queen,” said Edward, doubtfully, “but I’ll advise you.”

“That’s nonsense,” Oswald chided fondly, stroking his cheek. “You will be clever and dashing.”

“I can see how your mother’s stories must have made an impression,” said Edward, sleepily.

Someone banged on the door, demanding that they take down the shirt. As startled as Edward was, Oswald wasn’t about to get up and remove it. He held Edward close instead, pressing kiss after kiss against Edward’s forehead until the guard grunted and gave up.

“It’s reassuring to know you’ve had experience killing people, of course,” Oswald admitted.

Edward shrugged, already drowsing slightly, tugging at Oswald until he rested his head against Edward’s chest.

“I won’t hesitate to do whatever—” he yawned widely “—I need to do to protect you, Oswald.”

Oswald pressed his cheek against Edward’s heartbeat, basking in it. Everything about their encounters seemed fated, and his mother certainly would have agreed about the fairytale part.

After a little while, the lights went out. Edward shivered and mumbled about feeling chilly.

“There’s a draft,” Oswald murmured, tugging up the covers, holding him tight. “Shhh.”

Another down-draft from the vent stirred in Oswald’s hair. A sharp bang—followed by a forcefully-articulated _Ow!_ —followed.

Oswald sat up, startled by Edward’s gasp. “Who’s there?” he demanded of the ceiling, breath held as someone peered down at them.

“Holy smokes,” said Selina Kyle, fingers protruding through the slats. “They did lock you up.”

“Me too,” Edward volunteered, sitting up, squinting through the dark. “Street-Trash Girl?”

“Forensics Guy,” said Selina, tapping the corroded metal. “Huh. Well, gotta go, see ya ’rou—”

“Not so fast,” Oswald said, and the girl paused in continued curiosity. “Why are you here?”

“They’ve got a friend of mine locked up in the basement,” she said. “I’m gonna get her out.”

“The basement,” Edward muttered, rubbing the side of his face. “Just, hang on— _huh_?”

“What if I offered you a lot of money,” Oswald said, “to help us escape while you’re at it?”

Selina shrugged. “Sure,” she said, tugging at the vent. “This thing’s loose. Gimme a hand?”


End file.
